


Shoot Sugar

by bauer



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Ass to Mouth, Cum Eating, Dubious Consent, Fuck or Be Moderately to Severely Uncomfortable, M/M, Verbal Humiliation, johnny's a cum vampire and sean's a pez dispenser who goes mad with power, not literally but if that wouldn't appeal to you then neither will this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:22:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7819525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bauer/pseuds/bauer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I sent a text to Johnny Gaudreau today. I asked if he knew what he was going to have for dinner...”<br/> </p><p>  <b>Sean Monahan, Boring (@boringmonahan). 24 June 2015, 4:05 PM. Tweet.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoot Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> ... idk. happy belated birthday and congrats on the new contract, respectively. 
> 
> this is vaguely possibly curse (or any other form of magic tampering) related? let me know about any missed tags/obvious and embarrassing typos/etc.

****Sean’s balls hurt.

No slapshots to the dick, no vague lower body injury. He just wakes up, wraps a hand around himself, squeezes, and thinks, _Jesus._

There’s already a wet spot under him. He stumbles across the hall into the shower, doesn’t even bother to turn on the shower before wrapping a firm grasp around himself and pulling. The orgasm comes easy, like stretching out a muscle. It feels like it goes on forever, slow but steady.

Lots of evidence after the fact. Sean takes the removable showerhead and washes down the walls, the floor, before getting under the spray himself.

Back in his room, he spends longer than usual reclined on his bed, legs splayed open. This is weird, but definitely not worth calling anyone about, he decides. What’d he even say?

Sean throws on a pair of loose pants. He vetoes any form of underwear.

A few hours later he’s still feeling heavy, full. Swollen. He wants to fuck it out. He’s not even sure it’s possible, but that’s never stopped a man before. It’s still fairly early, so he texts Robert, hoping his shifts at the hospital didn’t change over the summer.

 

> **Not even going to buy me lunch first?**
> 
>  
> 
> _We can get lunch._

Robert doesn’t respond. Sean assumes that means he’s already in his car.   

“Get your goddamn hands out of your pants, Sean,” Lance says, not even looking away from the TV screen. They’re back on the sectional, trying to settle into their routine. Sean hadn’t noticed his hand drift under the elastic. He feels like a kid again, impulsively horny and pawing at himself.

Just energized up for the start of the season, he figures.

Sean takes his hand out of his pants, and tells Lance, “I got a buddy coming over.”

“Sure,” Lance says.

He sounds like he’s laughing, so Sean explains, “He works night shifts, so we have to meet early.”

“‘Course, Sean.”

They can’t hear the doorbell from where they’re sitting, so Robert has to text Sean to be let in. They get through the small talk, and Sean offers him water, a snack, or something. Robert rejects all that, and says he brought something else for Sean to eat. 

Sean does just that, fucks it too, and comes all over Robert’s back. Like, all over. There are puddles.

Robert looks back and says, “Christ, Sean. Pent up or something?”

“I just jerked off this morning. I’ll go get a towel.”

Robert grunts, rolling onto his back. The comforter is already fucked. “If they’re still in the bathroom, I gotta shower anyway.”

Sean hesitates for a second, then says, “Do you want to go another round first?”

Robert looks at him like he’s crazy. “Are you being serious right now?” 

Sean shrugs. “I could go again.” He feels a little like a half-closed, dripping tap, with just a flimsy seal keeping gravity or some other natural force from emptying him out.

That isn’t Robert’s problem, though, so he makes a crack about the all-purpose PEDs Sean isn’t on, takes his shower, drops that he’s maybe, possibly seeing this guy so maybe, probably Sean shouldn’t make the first call next time, and takes off.

Sean spends five minutes debating how tacky it would be to call someone else. He shouldn’t. It would be excessive.

He needs to shower. It would definitely be bad to already smell like sex, if he did call someone. He should probably wash his sheets, too. Or at least change his sheets.

By the time Sean gets out of the shower, he’s talked himself out of it. He goes back downstairs and acts like a reasonable human being. The next couple of hours consist of video games and several meals and snacks. It’s very chill.

Sean waits until there’s a solid chance that Lance is asleep before pulling the trigger on the hook up he’s been working on for the last hour. He goes to her, this time.

 _Frantic_ is not a word Sean would use to describe himself, but in the following hours he gains a newfound appreciation for Mary’s stamina. Her legs are still twitching when Sean rolls off the second—third?—condom of the night. This time, he feels truly drained. When Mary says, “You can sleep over, if you want,” he takes her up on it.

Sean wakes up first, which isn’t surprising. Mary stirs briefly as he’s getting dressed, but goes right back to sleep. He isn’t bothered; he know she didn’t mean anything extra with last night’s offer. He steals a bagel and goes back to the apartment.

Lance is already awake, too, working on breakfast. “Seriously?” he says.

“When booty calls.” It’s weak and Sean is vaguely ashamed.

“Whatever, man. It’s your turn to make breakfast tomorrow.” So they eat, work out, eat some more, watch TV, and eat dinner. Sean excuses himself at one point and jerks off into the bathroom sink, arm braced against the mirror. It takes a little too long, and then he has to stand there and run the tap for awhile, praying that he doesn’t need to call a plumber.

When he comes back, Lance gives him a look but doesn’t say anything.

The next day they have practice. The pressure is back in his balls when Sean wakes up, deep and heavy as ever. He tugs at them uncomfortably. Even after the last couple days, he hadn’t budgeted enough time to deal with it in his morning routine. He’d hoped it was a fluke. Usually he cares about ten more minutes of sleep than taking care of his morning wood. Now he wants to roll onto his stomach and grind his hips into the bed and come and come.

He gets up and takes a lukewarm shower, thinking of summer bug bites.

Lance drives, Sean spends the entire ride trying to find an extra centimeter of leg room. They arrive comfortably in the middle of the pack, settle in easy. It should feel like a normal day.

Sean finds Johnny in the arena kitchen, working his way diligently through a bag of pretzels. They haven’t really had a chance to hang out yet, since Johnny’s been busy setting things up now that they’re back in Calgary. Sean figures it’s something about his living arrangements now that Josh is gone. He hasn’t really said.

He walks up and tucks Johnny under his arm, shoulder to ribs, thumb running along the curve of his bicep. Johnny never really gets bulky but he feels good. Warm. Solid. “Really packed it on, eh?” Sean says, squeezing his arm for emphasis. 

Johnny smiles but it’s tight. He licks the salt of his fingers and says, “Yeah, guess I had a good summer.” Then one of the new guys comes in, and Sean drops his arm.

Practice itself is the sort that’s punishing if you came in out of shape, but Gulutzan still is mostly focused on drilling his playbook into their heads before the season starts for real. It’s a good combo, mentally and physically tiring, so Sean doesn’t have to think about how uncomfortable his jock is. 

That lasts until they’re back in the locker room. Sean practically bursts from his gear for another shower—even cooler this time—and after he isn’t in a rush to change back into his regular clothes. A man can hold a casual conversation with another man with no pants on. It’s a locker room. Nothing nobody’s never seen before. 

Johnny still stares. He looks _ravenous_ , like Sean’s attached to a some nice, juicy pomegranates.

It makes Sean feel hot, and he hasn’t worked out if or how he should respond before someone yells, “Swing _low,_ sweet chariot!” and he’s harassed back into his boxers. 

As it is, Sean doesn’t have to figure out what to say because Johnny comes up to him not much later and says, “Are you busy after this? Any plans?” 

His hookups with real jobs are at them. It’s too early for bars. Ditching his buddy to hump his bed feels pathetic. God, he wants to, but instead Sean replies, “No, not really. You want to get lunch?”

Johnny doesn’t really answer, just says, “I’ll follow you back to your place, okay?”

In the car, Sean tells Lance, “Johnny’s coming over.” 

“Sure,” Lance says.

Johnny doesn’t literally follow them home, but he knows where they live. Sean is finishing off a bottle of juice when Johnny invites himself in. He finds Sean quickly, watches him take the last gulp.

“Do you know if Naked has anything with pineapple?” Sean asks.

“What?” Johnny says. Sean shakes bottle at him. “Oh. No, I don’t know. Can we talk? Upstairs?”

Sean’s room is just about the only thing upstairs. That should be weird, but Sean just nods. Johnny is practically on his back up the stairs, but he stops short of following Sean onto the bed. Sean sits on the edge and consciously doesn’t linger on adjusting himself, even as he watches Johnny watch his hand. “You wanted to talk?” Sean asks.

Johnny says, “Uh, not really.” He takes a few steps forward, then falls to his knees between Sean’s legs. 

Johnny asks, “Is this alright?” Sean wants to paint his whole face white. He nods. 

They both shudder when Johnny wraps his lips around the head of Sean’s dick. He doesn’t linger. Johnny’s mouth is soft and brutal, working hard on what he can fit in his mouth. Sean’s almost paralyzed by it, desperate to come and unwilling to do anything that might make Johnny stop or even slow down. He doesn’t even think to warn Johnny before he’s shooting off in his mouth. 

Johnny chokes at first, has to pull back before he can swallow. But he does, throat working, lips soft as he suckles at Sean’s tip. Sean lets him, feeling warm, coddled. 

Johnny pulls off eventually. Sean can tell his cock’s still dripping, even through the wet from Johnny’s mouth. He expects Johnny to say to something about that, question how that’s still possible after a couple minutes, but instead Johnny says, “You’re still hard.” 

Sean blinks. “Uh, yeah?” 

“Does it hurt?” Johnny isn’t even looking at him. Well, not his face. “Can you come again?”

“Well. _Yeah_.” Congested is not a word that should be used to describe a dick, but it was starting to feel accurate. And here Johnny is, curled over Sean’s dick like it shoots out skittles.  

Sean moves back on the bed, and Johnny follows. He spends the better part of the afternoon with his head in Sean’s lap.

It forms something of a Seussian holding pattern; Johnny sucks Sean’s dick in the house once they get back from practice, in the dark after dinner, and once, in a car on their way to a teammate’s housewarming party. Eventually he starts sleeping over so they can squeeze in another round in the morning. 

The initial magic of having Johnny want his cock wears off pretty fast. _Just_ his cock. Johnny maintains his ruthlessly efficient head regimen, and Sean’s not even sure if he’s allowed to touch him. It starts to feel hollow.

Lance notices, because it’s hard not to. He catches them on a food run, divided and easy to conquer, to say, “We should make him start paying rent.”

 _He is_ , Sean thinks. And then he feels bad. Sean is fairly sure Lance is joking anyway, so he doesn’t bother to think of a good response.

Lance gets to the point he actually wanted to make. “You know, you guys can hang out down here sometimes. I like to think we’re all friends.” 

“I didn’t think we were that type of friends, Lance,” Sean says. Lance snorts.

“Come on, I heard you watching House of Bryan earlier. You couldn’t have been doing anything too nasty.”

Sean can’t really argue with Lance, because Sean had been _bored,_ and he had indulged in his occasional fantasies about the Baeumlers. Johnny hadn’t cared much either way, as long as his mouth was full.

Sean shrugs and says, “Well, now we’re having dinner, if you want.”

Lance does want. They throw together something quick but edible and filled with calories and carbs and all that good shit. Lance and Sean pack it down, but Johnny mostly moves it around his plate. He eats a few rolls, drinks some water.

When Lance gets up for another plate while Johnny’s still poking disdainfully at his vegetables, Sean asks, “Are you alright? Eating enough?”

Johnny blushes. “Yeah, definitely. Can we go back upstairs?” He sounds hopeful, and something clicks with Sean.

Sean stares long enough to make Johnny’s face start to fall, and then says, “Lance wants to hang out tonight, figured we could watch some show together or something. Are you done?”

Johnny looks surprised, like he’d forgotten Sean could say no after the last couple days. Sean doesn’t even want to, except—

This isn’t the first time they’ve done this. The first time had been during one of the last road trips of last season. They had been tired and horny in Montreal. Going out would have been stupid, so instead they exchanged lackluster handjobs before falling asleep. Sean had almost thought that was the start of something. Then the season ended, closing the book on that sliver of a _maybe_. It’d been too easy. They hadn’t had a reason to go to each other again, didn’t _need_ each other. 

But now.  

Now Johnny can’t go a few hours without pressing up against Sean, fingers toying with the edge of his shorts, paying him more attention than whatever’s happening on screen. They can sit on a coach and keep up a conversation and Sean is still the center of Johnny’s attention. Desire. _Need._

They need each other.

Sean isn’t sure if Johnny knows that.

The movie ends, and Lance retires to his bedroom, satisfied that he’s played his role a supportive friend and roommate. His door shuts closed, and Sean says, “He usually doesn’t come back. You should get on the floor.” 

Johnny practically throws himself at Sean’s feet with an ungraceful roll. The shorts get yanked down, band of Sean’s underwear tucked under his balls. Johnny goes to swallow him down, as always, but Sean catches him by the hair, pushes him further down. Johnny locks up, looking up at Sean all confused.

“Come on, Johnny, lick my balls. You want to make me come, right? This helps,” Sean says. Johnny still doesn’t look sure, but he lowers his head anyway. His tongue is hesitant, but that has its own benefits.  

Sean groans and widens his legs. He buries his fingers in Johnny’s hair, petting it, appreciating how soft it is. A little short; Sean wonders if he could convince him to grow it out.

Eventually he lets Johnny back where he wants to be, loving the sound of his appreciative groan. Johnny falls into old habits quick, though, focusing hard on the head. Sean could come like this, like always, but now that he knows Johnny needs this just as bad…

Sean drags Johnny back off his cock by his hair. Johnny groans, frustrated this time. “Sean—” 

“Johnny.” Sean jerks himself slow, right in front of Johnny’s face. His eyes follow Sean’s hand. “I’ve just been thinking, you’ve been doing a lot of work here. I’m not even sure if you’ve come. I feel like a bit of an asshole, here, John. You don’t need to be doing me favors.”

Johnny glances up at Sean’s face, swallows, and says, “You’re not— I’m not… I want it.”

Sean pretends to think about it. His cock is so hard. He wants to come. He wants Johnny to beg for it.

“I don’t know,” Sean says. “Really, Johnny, I can just jerk off.” 

“No,” Johnny groans. “You can’t. I’m _hungry.”_

 Easy. “What, for my cum?”

Johnny whimpers and squirms in Sean’s hands. “Yeah. Over the summer, I had all the Foxboro guys, and I’ve been trying to make up for it here, going out all the time, but you…” he lets out this shuddery sigh, “God, you come so much.” 

Well, that’s not the best sentence Sean’s ever heard, even if it makes his dick twitch a little. “Really? So you’re just here for my shot, then? Doesn’t matter how you get it?”  

Johnny hesitates, eyes cutting away.

Sean pulls him up, and Johnny settles with his legs spread over Sean’s thighs. Sean lets himself really feel Johnny, for maybe the first time, hands firm over his shoulders and chest and hips. Johnny stays very still, even when Sean slides a hand into Johnny’s pants. He’s slim and cut and only partially hard, so Sean takes his hand back to spit in it. “You know what, actually, I think you’ve been pretty selfish,” Sean says, wrapping his hand back around Johnny’s dick. He’s mean about it, squeezing hard and thumbing at his slit. Johnny twitches, hard. “Holding me off so _you_ can enjoy my come. This isn’t the funnest way to get off, is it? You’re one of my best friends, Johnny, and you _just said_ I’m the best option, the one you wanted, but you won’t even look me in the eye after you’ve latched on.”

“I’m sorry,” Johnny says. His hips are trembling in Sean’s lap. 

Sean puts a finger in his mouth, pets his tongue. “Yeah,” he says. He takes his finger and puts it down the back of Johnny’s shorts. It’s barely wet, just enough to get the pad in with a little coaxing. Johnny jerks, and squeals, and comes into Sean’s hand a minute later. A sad little spurt.

Johnny curls his nose when Sean brings it up to his face, so Sean wipes it on his lips and says, “Come on, you were starving earlier. It’s just an appetizer, don’t worry.”

Sean twists and dumps Johnny into the corner of the coach, bending over him with a hand at the center of his chest to dig the communal lube, ignores the condoms, out of the end table.

“Um,” Johnny says.

“Don’t worry,” Sean says. “I’ll still give you want. But I’m going to take what I want now, too, okay?” Johnny doesn’t fight Sean as he takes off his shorts and twists his shirt up over his head. He keeps his arms above his head, eyes on Sean, legs spread obediently. He’s a nice sight. His ass is tight but not impossible.

It takes Sean a minute to edge his dick in, but the real prize is watching Johnny try to breathe and squirm around it. His eyes squint and water, but they never leave Sean’s, even as he starts really fucking into him. 

Fuck, it’s nice. His rhythm must fall off as he gets close, because Johnny says, voice reedy, “Don’t come in me.”

That sentence edges Sean closer than either of them want. He slows to grind, squeezes Johnny’s thighs, and says, “Yeah? You still want my cock in your mouth after it’s been in your ass? You need it that bad?” 

Johnny pouts, squeezes his eyes closed for a second, then nods. “Yes. Please, Sean, I need it so bad.”

And that does it, Sean shrugging off Johnny’s legs to crawl up and kneel over his chest. Johnny cringes, barely noticeable, before Sean shoves the head of his dick into his mouth. Sean jerks himself the rest of the way there, a couple strokes before he’s shooting into Johnny’s mouth. He groans, orgasm bending him over until his elbows are on the armrest, absent-mindedly thrusting into Johnny’s mouth. Johnny takes it. 

Sean reaches down to feel his throat work. He pulls back a little early, dripping onto Johnny’s face. It just about breaks Johnny’s heart, though, so Sean apologizes and thumbs it back into his mouth.

God, he really is desperate for it.

“It’s okay,” Sean says, letting Johnny clean up Sean’s dick after himself. “I got you, Johnny, I’ll take care of you.”

They still haven’t kissed yet, Sean thinks absently.  


**Author's Note:**

> [porn gifs ft. whining tumblr here.](http://ratbarnaby.tumblr.com)


End file.
